


A Light in the Mists

by nick_carraway



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nick_carraway/pseuds/nick_carraway
Summary: Nick visits West Egg and remembers the past.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

This is another story about the past, about the old times. Some of you may have lived in this town when it all happened. It was ten years before I came to live here. My mother said I was too young to remember it, but I do have a few memories of those days. How could I forget them, they were the best years of my life. It all started with the two murders. Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan; old Tom's parents were killed in their home in the country side one night. It was never solved, but everyone knows who did it. Old Tom himself, the richest man in town. The Buchanans owned most of the town, and as such, no one wanted to investigate too much into it. The case remained open to this day. In the pyramid of Tom Buchanan, it would seem that the base is much larger than the capstone. The solid bedrock of old Tom's life is in fact a cheap costume, a myth, and a petty deception. His past is filled with dark secrets, all of which are just the tip of the ice burg. He is a notorious womanizer who has two love affairs, one with a married woman and the other with her daughter. His business dealings are no more legal or moral than his love life. And at the pinnacle of it all is Gatsby's unrequited love for Daisy Buchanan, a woman who has married a vicious, racist, and thick-headed brute of a man just so she can boast about her social status. It would be an understatement to say that Tom Buchanan has a dark side. You can still go see their house if you want. It's abandoned now; no one dares to go there. They say at night you can hear the haunting screams of the Buchanans as they call out for justice. Of course, this is all superstition, but it's not just the superstitious that avoid that house. Everyone does.  
  
Twenty years ago, when it was all fresh in people's minds, you could talk to anyone about it.  
  
Ten years ago, people would still say 'Oh yeah, I remember'.  
  
Five years ago, people would say ' Was that the guy who lost his house?'.  
  
Two years ago, people said 'Which murders?'  
  
Now, no one says anything at all. No one wants to remember it.  
  
What happened after the murders is really what makes this story. No one but the poor or middle-class lives on this side of town any longer. If you have money, you move to the richer side of the city, the newer side where there are no memories.


	2. Chapter 2

They are fixing up the poorer side of town again. Even my old school is in better condition these days. The city had almost torn it down before the murders, but afterwards, they needed to keep people's minds off of what happened. Next year, our school may finally get the band back. I live in a house not far from the school, once occupied by an old lady who always said she would haunt it if they tore the school down. I remember, when I first moved to this house, they still hadn't decided whether to tear the place down or not. I still can't help but wonder if she haunts it anyway. I've always wondered about her story as well. I've been trying to figure it all out, but there are things that don't add up. She just disappeared, but no one looked for her. Nothing was solved. The police didn't even care, and neither did anyone else. No one knows if it was because she was too poor, or because she was too rich. I'm inclined to think it was because she was too rich, but I can't figure out why. And what happened to Gatsby? Why was he killed? I can't help but think I'm overlooking something. I'm stuck on these murders and how they changed things forever. I can't think about anything else, but maybe that's because I'm too close to the case, so to speak.  
  
I wish we still had parties. Then I could try to solve this once and for all.


	3. Chapter 3

Through my window, as I lay in bed, a thought came to me. It had come before, and had always frightened me. But this time I felt prepared to grapple with it. I was determined to settle the matter now, once and for all. It had come in with a group of shapeless thoughts, but as it got closer, it separated itself from the others and grew more distinct. Now it stood out like the figures in a photograph; coming out slowly. Surely it must have been formed long before I lied in bed, but in those cloudy early-morning hours. it had been vaporous and indistinct. Now it was clear and real: a face with pale eyes, wide apart, under a gray and shadowy hat. It came up very softly through the darkness, and just before it disappeared it turned aside and merged itself with the shadows.  
  
Him!  
  
Unable to gather my thoughts, I went to that old West Egg mansion. The last place I talked to him. To Jay. I sat on the edge of that broken bridge he loved to stare at. The green light wasn't there that night, but I remembered what he told me about it … I thought and thought, but I still couldn't solve the case. It was too complex, too twisted. I couldn't even figure out who killed who, or why. Were they killed? Did they kill themselves? Was it an accident? It was too much for me. I had been working on it for months and gotten nowhere. Maybe it was the night's cool air, or the spray of the river mist, or hearing the lapping of water against the rocks. But I finally came to a solution. I couldn't figure out the mystery of Jay Gatsby,  
  
But maybe I didn't need to.  
  
After all, not everything is solved, and mysteries go unsolved every day. Life would be boring without the mystique and awe of the unknown. I came to peace with myself that night. I would let the mystery of Jay Gatsby remain a mystery.  
  
And with that, I stood up from the bridge and turned back home.


End file.
